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According to my grandmother’s notes everything changed for Nadia with the arrival of her new English tutor. His name was Sebastian Barrett and he had just published a novel that was the rage of the literate world. In truth he was not an educator but between Nadia’s mothers determination and her father’s pocketbook Sebastian Barrett succumbed and agreed to spend the next two seasons filling Nadia with all things English.

When Sebastian arrived it became very apparent that he would not be their usual run of the mill tutor. They would have to make accommodations. As it turned out Mr. Barrett was plagued by insomnia and was unable to fall asleep until dawn. So Nadia’s lessons had to be held at night. Mr. Barrett was also very particular about his diet. He ate nothing but steak tartar served with a raw egg and caviar and he drank nothing but the wine he brought with him and kept in his rooms.

He had one servant, a Chinese youth who spoke no English as far as anyone could tell but seemed to understand his masters needs without receiving orders. The servant’s name was Hung and he wore a loose black suit with the most expensive boots that Nadia had ever seen. The leather they were fashioned from was so soft that it looked to have been molded right on his foot.

Nadia had never seen a Chinese person before and she found him to be exceptionally beautiful. She had to force her eyes away from him whenever he was present because otherwise she could be lost in his face for hours.

Sebastian on the other hand she found a boor. It was evident from the first that he was not going to take his assignment seriously and that he was going to use the time they had together to seduce her. Granted he was devastatingly good-looking but his persistence made him quite unattractive.

If only he was as fascinating as his book. Then she might have allowed him to make love to her. In his book he reveals a world that comes alive when night falls. A world inhabited by creatures of beyond imagination. Creatures that feed on humanity in every way possible and who will go on feeding until the end of time. Some of these creatures she recognized. Vampires have long been a part of Russian lore as have were creatures and ghosts that steal the souls of those who sleep but she had never read about them like this. It made her want to leave her safe, snug bedroom with it’s roaring fire to go walking amongst the darkened streets in hopes of catching glimpse of one of these creatures. She would sit for hours in front of her mirror pulling down her bodice so that her neck and breasts were revealed and imagining the feel of sharp teeth piercing her flesh.

Sebastian was getting increasingly more aggressive in his pursuit of her. She had slapped him more than once. The last time he had the audacity to raise his hand to her. If it hadn’t been for his servant she was positive that she would have been raped. She considered telling her parents about this. In fact she had been about to knock on her mother’s door when it struck her that if Sebastian left then so would Hung.

Now when she sat in front of the mirror it was Hung who’s breath she felt on her neck. It was Hung who was everything.

I knew I was out of my depth. I was still only a resident with nowhere near enough knowledge to start my own practice. I needed to convince her … Her? He?And the she looked nothing like the man who had so nearly become an obsession. That in itself was enough to disqualify me as the right person to help her. I needed to convince her that the best way for me to help her was to introduce her to my mentor Dr. Metz.

My face must have betrayed my line of thought because her gaze grew so intense I felt assaulted, as if a slender blade had entered my heart and was twisting. It became increasingly difficult to breathe.

I can’t remember her crossing the room yet I felt her all around me. I felt her breath in my ear, so hot and wet like steam from a volcanic pool. I felt her leg graze mine and then fuse but I heard his voice.

“Help me.”

“I want to help you. I just don’t think I am qualified to…”

“You are the only one who can see me Magdalene.” She said.

The sound of the doorknob rattling almost made me leap out of my skin. Her smile chilled me even as the presence of the Maggs the night orderly, lit a fire under my resolve.

“Good evening Maggs.” I said.

“And to you Miss. Anything I can help you with?”

“No. I’m just trying to persuade this young lady “ I turned to face her. “that she should consult Dr. Metz regarding her troubles.”

I will never forget the look on Magg’s face or hers.

“Miss?”

“I was just about to tell her that I am only a resident and as such can not take on patients of my own when ….”

Maggs booming laugh resonated through the corridor.

“You almost had me Miss and that’s the truth. I was this close to strapping you to the bed and calling Metz himself.”

I must have looked bewildered because he just kept going.

“Stop now. I don’t think I can take any more. The look on your face like I’m the lunatic. Have a good night.” He continued his way down the hall checking doors as he went.

“I told you.” She was lying on the bed.

The reality of my situation finally sunk in. I was insane. I sank to the floor in shock.

“I guess about now you are doubting your sanity.” She said. “You are seriously debating whether or not you should confess all of this to your precious mentor.”

I put my hands over my ears.

“I am not a hallucination. You might as well come to terms with that now Just as you should come to terms with the fact that the man upstairs who keeps turning up naked and dreams of stalking prey is really a werewolf. There is substance to the things that go bump in the night. Now you have a choice. You can fold inwards like so many of you do and take refuge in the delusion of your being insane or you can open your eyes wide and truly see what and who walks amongst you.”

Why could I hear her so clearly? My hands were clasped so tightly over my ears that they were numb. But of course the laws that governed the sane world held no sway for me now. I began to laugh hysterically.

“I am sorry. I must have mistaken your determination to succeed in a career laden with so many near insurmountable obstacles for strength. I guess I was wrong. You are not strong at all. You are simply stubborn. You are right you can’t help me.”

She was all around me. Her hands were pushing me down as she whispered.

“How about one for old times sake? After all you have nothing to lose now. Have you?”

Her voice was husky. I could feel her soft body grow hard and her passion ruthless. God dammit I would not be plagued by this. If I were to be crazy I refused to be diagnosed with the same malady as every other woman in this place. I was not a sexual hysteric. I was incensed.

It was in that moment that something in me shifted and I found myself inexplicably doing two things. I found myself throwing my seducer onto his back and I believing that there was much, much more to my world than met most people’s eye. The man upstairs was a were wolf and the man/woman who was making me shudder with pleasure was for all I knew a demon.

I have read and re-read Nadia’s files and have come to the conclusion that my grandmother was wrong. Not that I would have likely done anything differently in her case, my grandmother was definitely a forward thinker and completely ahead of her time but psychiatry has changed so much that unless you are still in the academic loop of it you will find it impossible to keep up. Since my job was tied into the Justice system I was up to the millisecond. So while I did not fault my grandmother for diagnosing Nadia with an eating disorder and using hypnosis to abate it after the shock treatment had failed; I do not share her diagnosis. I believe that Nadia is suffering from PTSD and that the Bulimia is a symptom of that.

The problem of course is that Nadia is completely dependent on hypnosis and any suggestion of stopping produces in her severe anxiety. How can I wean her from this band-aid?

According to the files Nadia was born in Georgia to wealthy “white” Russian family that boasted of an ancestral tree that spanned centuries. Her date of birth is unclear. I cannot tell if my grandmother has written 1895 or 1395. It may even be something completely different so I must base her age on the details of the story itself.

It seems she was a happy child, much-loved and pampered. She had 4 brothers and a baby sister. Her mother was a remarkable woman for any time but in particular for hers since she was fully educated and insisted on it for her daughter as well. And since it was impossible for Nadia to attend university because of the restrictions due her gender, her mother hired the foremost scholars of the time to teach Nadia everything there was to know about astronomy,philosophy,literature,art and mathematics. Nadia became an accomplished musician and by the age of ten had composed several operas.

I wondered if perhaps music might provide an entranceway for me. I had achieved a significant amount of success using the arts to access aspects of the sociopath where traditional talk therapy failed. It was worth a try.I would rent a piano and see how Nadia reacted. If of course she returned at all. I have not seen her since the night she threw herself from my window. I suspect however that she is keeping her eye on me. There have been a number of incidents where I would swear I am not alone although the evidence would suggest otherwise.

This could also be due to my inability to get more than 3 hours of sleep. I am no stranger to the occasional bout of insomnia but this is completely different. I have no trouble falling asleep, in fact there is something about this house that makes it quite difficult at times to stay awake. And while the idea of closing my eyes and allowing myself to drift off is a seductive one, I know that within seconds of REM I will be thrust headlong into another of the vivid dreams I have been inundated with. These dreams are the reason I am exhausted and the cause of my aching body. What really bothers me though is my inability to control them.

I have been a practitioner of lucid dreaming since I was a child. It was something my grandmother taught me when I used to have nightmares after the fire. But none of the techniques she taught me or any of the additional tricks I picked up myself work on these dreams and I am wondering if perhaps they are coming from a different and much deeper part of my unconscious. I also wonder if they are stemming from the fact that within less than two weeks I will start seeing my grandmother’s patients.

April 6, 19…

I am unable to get more than a handful of sleep a night ever since my experience in the Nightmare Ward. If this persists I will drop on my feet. As it is I am terrified that my dreams are manifesting themselves outwardly. I have seen women in the throes of subconscious passion and I would be mortified beyond belief if I too was displaying such overt sexuality. Not that I am a prude, I have been sexually active in one way or another since puberty. I have never understood the fuss placed on the sanctity of sexual concourse. But then I will admit I have always been a bit of a sensualist. In honesty I have always believed that it is a balance to the obsession I have with my intellectual development. Regardless, I have always felt it to be healthy until now. Now I can think of nothing, dream about nothing but the man in the Nightmare Ward and whenever I think of him my body craves his touch.

Today I will begin my training with Dr. Hagar Wolff. She is the leader in the field of psychiatric hypnosis and has achieved the most miraculous effects in those who suffer from phobias and all other obsessive thought. Needless to say it is a lengthy process and not all patients are capable of trance so electro shock therapy is still a more practical solution. However I am intrigued and am looking forward to meeting this brilliant woman. It is rumored that she was once romantically entangled with the notorious Dr. Charlotte Wolff.

April 13, 19….

I have been ill. Shortly after my first session with Hagar, she insists on this informality with all her students, I found myself becoming perilously weak. So weak in fact that I was unable to make it to the infirmary before the hallway went black and I collapsed on the floor. It was not a true faint since I was still aware of my surroundings but I was unable to move or speak. At first it was like being struck blind and I had nothing but the echoing cacophony of the heavy hospital traffic to tell me where I was. Eventually with the agonizing slowness of a garden snail my eyes began to clear and I could see again.

My re-found vision only added to the horror of my paralysis since the first thing I saw was him. Him standing over me. Him raising my skirts and running his hands over my thighs. Him slowly, tantalizingly running his tongue down my neck to my collarbone to…

I was told that two nurses found me and helped get me to the infirmary where I have been battling fever for almost a week. Knowing that my phantom male is able to move freely about the hospital has frightened me more than I can say. Tonight will be my first night back on duty. I will be watching over the Nightmare Ward and I will end this.

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I was such a fool to think this would ever end.and even more of one to think that reality was so cut and dry. There truly are things that exist outside our dreams that we could not even begin to imagine. I know I sound mad. I only wish I was for what I have learned tonight has made me question almost everything I have learned about the subject. It horrifies me to think of all the patients here who complain of demons and monsters tormenting them, or telling us that they can only exist by drinking blood or that they transform into monsters or that their lovers are demons and we place electrodes on their heads and send thousands of volts of electricity coursing through their veins to dislodge the obsession. Sometimes when a patient is terrified to the point of hysteria by something; we subject them to that thing repeatedly to accustom them to it. I have seen grown men drooling in fear when compelled to watch a spider crawl across a table. And I too have made callous jokes about those here who are plagued by those who are unseen. I have not failed to see the irony.

It happened almost immediately. I had just unlocked the outer doors that separate the Nightmare Ward from the rest of the wing when I found myself thrown up against the wall. but this time I fought back, not with blows but with indifference. This was not easy.because when he touches me I do not want him to stop until I am either dead from exhaustion or just plain dead. I do not know where I managed to find the strength but I found enough for him to stop and consider me.

“If you want me to help you, then this must stop.” I said.

There was no expression on his face as it changed. He was not at all what I expected. He was a she.

The Nightmare Ward was so astonishingly quiet when I arrived that I had to stand and study each patient to ensure that their rib cages were rising and falling and not stilled in death. Patient B was not asleep at all. She was sitting quietly rocking herself until she noticed my peering. As I said before Patient B is an invert and while my exposure to them has been mostly with the males I was not intimidated by the notion that Patient B might actually find me attractive.

In fact if I am going to be entirely truthful I will have to admit that I find the prospect somewhat thrilling. Not that I myself have any tendencies in that direction but I do find the idea of being the object of someones most intimate fantasies more than a little stimulating. I have never considered myself to be a very attractive person. Intelligent, capable yes but visually pleasing? No. So I suppose if I were to have an Achilles Heel it would be this.

Patient B would be considered beautiful by most standards if it were not for a thin scar that runs from the corner of her eye to the corner of her upper lip. It is not livid. In fact you barely notice it at all unless the light catches it and then it reflects slightly silver in contrast to her dark olive complexion. Her file says she got it in a fight with a pimp, a fight she won. She was not a prostitute. There are so many things I would like to ask her. But I am not permitted.

She is studying me now. I cannot tell what she is thinking. Her face is completely closed. But then her eyes narrow and she stretches like a cat and I can see that she is percolating something. I think perhaps it is best if I move on to Patient C. My feet won’t move. I swear I try to take a step and it feels like I am rooted to the floor so deeply that I will die and turn to dust here. I can feel her eyes travel across the planes of my face and settle on my lips. And yet how can I know this.? I am staring fixedly at my feet. My feet which are now moving, not down the hallway where I want them most desperately to go but back. I am moving back away from the door. And then I stop just far enough for the door to open one smooth centimeter at a time. I am being seduced by it’s precision. I have no control over my body except to breathe and even that I am not sure of.

I am no longer staring at my feet. In fact I am oblivious to them. I am oblivious to everything but her eyes. Her eyes? No not her eyes. His eyes and yet… Are they not the same? An infinitesimal voice in my head seems to be concerned about the door I did not open. I think perhaps I should be concerned about whether the eyes are male or female and yet my mostly inexperienced body is experiencing far more than I would have believed possible.

I am naked. I do not remember shedding my clothes. I am suspended somewhere near the ceiling and although he is taking me from behind I see his eyes in front of me. And I see in his eyes that he knows that I can no longer be with anyone else which makes me scream in fury into the palm of his hand.

“Help me.” He said “And I will make you feel this way forever.”

“I do not want this.” I said.

His laughter echoed in my ears “No.” He said. “You do not want this.”

I found myself on the other side of closed-door, fully clothed and without a hair out-of-place. The room was empty and so was I. The hallway filled with the songs of nightmares. I pressed the alarm bell to signal Patient B’s escape.

It took less than three minutes for the orderlies to arrive. It took less than 40 seconds for me to learn that Patient B had been discharged that morning. What was happening to me?

Since it has been so long since I added to this project I decided it might be easier to put all the posts in one so that new peeps can get caught up and old peeps can refresh the story in their minds. I promise that from now on I will write longer and will not take any extended breaks no matter what happens in my life. Mwah

June 11th, 2011

My dearest Emm,

If you are reading this it means I am either dead or beyond caring and you have accepted the terms of my bequest. I do so hope that you love this house as much as I have and do not come to regret the very necessary restrictions that living and working here brings. Enclosed is a flash drive with all my patient files and appointment books. You will see that at least three of these poor souls have been treated by both your great and your great, great-grandmother. And I have no doubt that one day you too will be writing a letter just like this to your granddaughter unless you prove to be even more of a workaholic than the rest of us and choose to accept a total commitment.

It’s completely up to you. I will confess that if I hadn’t wanted children so badly I would have been tempted. It is such an incredible opportunity for anyone in our field but you will weigh the pros and cons for yourself.

I have been able to clear things up for a couple of weeks but after that I’m afraid you will have to dive right in.

Best wishes for a full and rewarding life. I am at peace knowing that my patients are in your hands. Everything you need to know is in your hand. For God’s sake do not lose it or ever let it fall into anyone else’s hands. You will understand far better once you read the files.

Love Nan.

Journal of E. Pinter

June 11th 2012

It is past 1 and I have been psyching myself up to see what Nan put on this travel stick. Frankly I am scared shitless and after finishing my residency in forensic psychiatry I have to admit it takes a lot to shake me. But I am terrified that what I am going to discover when I read through her files is that she was… what? Why can’t I say it? Because when I grew up I wanted to be just like her. She was the funniest, most sophisticated and brilliant person I have ever known and it will break my heart if when I go through her files I find that she had lost all that. Of course on the other hand she did have a wildly perverse sense of humor so it is possible that… she could be fucking with me. Well there’s only one way to find out.

June 18th 2012

Just after my last entry someone broke into the house. Well, that isn’t completely accurate because there were no signs of breaking in. The windows were all intact and the doors were locked? In fact I might not have noticed it at all if it hadn’t been for the missing meat.

Strange that someone would leave jewelry, electronics and cash in favor of a prime rib.

Which means what? Did Nan give someone a key? Maybe the answers are on the travel stick which I hopefully will have time to get to tonight. I didn’t realize how much stuff I had until I started to unpack.

June 19th 2012

I fell asleep in the office last night. I was just about to upload Nan’s travel stick when I was hit with such a wave of exhaustion that I could not keep my eyes open. I didn’t sleep right away though. I drifted in what must have been a semi-dream state because I found myself deeply absorbed in conversation with an exquisitely beautiful woman named… Damn I have forgotten her name. It started with an N I think… I suppose if it is important it will come back to me.

I do remember what we discussed because I kept wondering how I could find such grandiose lies so completely believable and I needed to remind myself that it was just a dream. For every myth and legend there is a psychiatric condition, things do not go bump in the night, people do.

July 9th 2012

It has been almost three weeks since I sat down to collect my thoughts. I could lie and say that I have been busy settling into my new home and finalizing all the bits of legal and practical minutiae involved in starting up a private practice but the truth is that I have had an incredible shock and it’s taken me this long to process everything. And if I’m going to be totally honest I will also have to admit that I wasn’t sure whether I wanted this on my computer at all. Part of me wanted to down a bottle of Glen Fiddich, smash that fucking travel stick into a million pieces and look through family albums until I could remember my grandmother as the woman who raised me and not as the woman she really was. But that wouldn’t have solved anything; it certainly wouldn’t have stopped them… in fact anything I might do to change my new set of circumstances would likely be in direct violation of my Hippocratic Oath.

I realize that I’m not making a whole lot of sense here. It’s because I’m stalling. It’s like as long as I don’t actually say it; I can pretend it’s not really true. On the other hand I may have had a psychotic break and this is all part of my delusion. Regardless I am committed now. So I guess I will start Nadia…

Three weeks ago I wrote about a dream where I was having an utterly fascinating conversation with the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. She was the color of white jade, and yes I do know how cheesy that sounds but there is really no other way to describe the translucence of her skin or how very, very white it was and yet with a tinge, an infinitesimal tinge of blush. Her hair was blue-black and seemed to move just a few seconds before she did. I have no idea what her eyes looked like because she would not allow me to look at them directly. Neither can I remember if she was tall, short, thin, obese… She was just a face. No. She is the face.

You see she is not a dream. She is…

Two nights later Nadia returned. This time I was wide awake. This time I heard the tapping at the window. And this time I could see that it was not a bird, or a branch. It was the woman of my dream. And yet how could it be, the room I was in was at least twenty-five feet from the ground? I had left no ladder. The branches that did reach the windows on this floor were not stout enough to bear anything heavier than a squirrel. How could there be that face so full of longing that I lost all reason and not only opened the window but bid her enter?

I do not remember how she came to be sitting in the chair across from my desk but there she was. I seem to have a vague impression of swirling black but surely I am not remembering things accurately. Or perhaps I am, this is all very new to me after all.

She asked me if I had, had a chance to look at her patient file since her last visit and I told her that in all honesty I had believed her last visit to be a dream.

This seemed to trouble her a great deal until I suggested that we start over as if this was our first appointment and we had never met and that as soon as we had finished our conversation I would indeed acquaint myself with her history.

She told me that her name was… I will just refer to her and any of the others by their first names only. Her name was Nadia. She had been a patient of my grandmother’s for over forty years. I wrote down a notation when she mentioned this because Nadia must have been somewhere in her late twenties. My grandmother was treating her for an eating disorder. She was bulimic. I asked her to tell me about herself. But she said that the details of her life were unimportant and that she needed me to hypnotize her like my grandmother had promised her I would or she would die. I explained to her as best I could that I did not practice hypnosis, that I did not believe in it as a permanent therapeutic solution but that I could refer her to someone if she wanted.

Nadia became hysterical. She threatened to lie out in the blazing sun until she was nothing but ashes if I wouldn’t help her. The only way I could calm her down was to tell her to come back the next night after I had familiarized myself with her case. She agreed and then stepped out of the window.

My heart was in my throat as I scanned the ground below. But there was nothing, not even on closer inspection with a flashlight, was there any sign of a broken body below my office window.

What was I feeling? Was I scared, anxious, hysterical? I was numb.

Somehow I managed to climb back up the stairs and throw the travel stick into my computer before I started shaking. Fortunately I also had the presence of mind to grab a glass and the bottle of single malt along the way because as soon as I started reading I needed a drink. Hell, I needed several.

August 16, 2012

It has taken me over a month to come to familiarize myself with my grandmother’s practice. The case files are staggering because she has been treating some of her patients for over sixty years. It is like inheriting parrots and in all likelihood unless I manage to pull off some psychiatric miracle, I too will be passing on ponderous notes amassed after another sixty years of treatment. However, I realize that I am still being frustratingly enigmatic so I have decided to share the pertinent portions of my grandmother’s files and all the other notes and instructions left me on that godforsaken piece of plastic. It is far, far easier than trying to explain in my own words what I have landed in. To be totally honest, there are times when I need to reread everything because I am still trying to grasp it all and I am living it.

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May 3, 2011

From the Journal of Dr. Magdalene Currey

It is definite. I have a year at most. Is this enough time to put my practice in order before I die? That is really the only thing that concerns me. My only hope is Emm. I don’t know what I will do if she says no. I can’t even begin to imagine how I would explain my patients to anybody else. Even if I was believed would they be treated or studied? It would be a sin if they all just reverted. All those decades down the drain. I was so close with Nadia.

I have a good feeling about Emm though. I think she is looking for a change. The Ewing case really got to her. Understandably, but once the armor is chinked it’s only a matter of time before it cracks wide open. I think she would find my “monsters” quite refreshing after dealing with hers and she has always loved this house…

My “monsters” how do I tell them?

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Patient Files

*It is important to note that I am leaving out any details that might make it easy to recognize the people in these files. Only the first names are used and I am not including any of the dates since some of them coincide with events well-known by the public from newspaper and other media accounts. E.P.

Francois G

This patient was admitted to hospital and put under 24 hour observation by court order after being found this morning in High Park wandering naked drenched in blood. Patient claims to remember nothing past the beauty of the moon and his desire to enjoy it by partaking of a nocturnal stroll. He believes that he must have been attacked and robbed because he is a man of means and his clothing reflects that. Also he says he had a gold watch and an alligator wallet containing at least two hundred dollars which is an incredible amount of money to be walking around alone at night with. The police are searching the park for his clothes and any sign of an attack or possibly even a victim since the patient has no apparent wounds.

When asked his name and address the patient refused to give either until pressed and then he told us to call him Francois G……. He preferred to keep the rest to himself unless it became necessary for him to call his solicitor. He believed however that upon a few hours of observation that we would see him to be not only sane but perfectly harmless and release him even before the officers found evidence of his veracity.

He did however accept the “loan” of a hospital gown and bed where he slept like the dead for ten hours straight.

The police found the clothing Francois had described as wearing when he left the house. Unfortunately it was in tatters. They even found his wallet. The money however was missing as was the watch. In fact if the thieves had of realized the value of the wallet itself I’m sure they would have taken it too, whoever those thieves should happen to be.

The Officers found nothing to explain the blood.

Francois G displayed no aberrant behavior during the time we watched him and was released after the twenty-four hours had passed. We determined that the blood must have been come from his nose.

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Francois G returned under similar conditions roughly a month after his initial visit. This time however he was found curled up with his head on the haunch of a deer. Again however he has no memory of how he ended up so. He is horrified at the idea that he killed and ate the deer since the evidence that he did so is irrefutable. He does not want to go home until we can tell him what is happening to him? He still will not tell us anything about himself and became completely hysterical when it was suggested that his family be notified of his whereabouts.

Since he can remember nothing our head of Psychiatry, Dr. Metz is going to hypnotize him and see if he can be made to recall his actions that way. In the meantime we have the patient sedated for fear that he may do harm to himself.

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At four o’clock this afternoon Dr. Metz successfully put Francois G into a trance like state and was able to extract the following. “It is such a beautiful night. I feel to walk under the stars. I love to see the moon so voluptuous reflected in the pond with the swans circling in adoration like virginal devotees. I feel the air grow hot on my face. So hot that the sweat begins to run down my neck. I am burning. There is something so sensual about this night. I feel myself grow hard, first where it is expected and then all over. I am engorged. My entire body is so. I hear nothing but the sound of my heart. I am nothing but heartbeat and heat. Heartbeat and heat. Heartbeat and the sound of fabric tearing and … pain? Do I call this pain or ecstasy? It is agonizing and yet delicious. The bones in my body are splintering and reforming. My senses are so acute. I swear I can hear the sap drip off the leaf on that birch tree on the other side of the pond. I jump hearing thunder and then laugh when I realize it is two squirrels chasing each other up a tree. I cannot imagine what a thunder-storm would do to my ears.

I feel so good. I drop and roll in the grass like when I was a child. I roll and roll on my back and then for absolutely no reason at all I leap to my feet and run. The trees fly by in a blur and yet I hear and smell everything so clearly that I have no need of sight. Suddenly I catch a scent that sets my mouth to watering. I am ravenous. Eat. I must eat. I hear the pounding heart. Her eyes are so gentle, so brown like the earth. She is fast. She darts between the trees as rapid as a blink and if I were to blink I would lose her. But I do not and so in the end I leap upon her back and sink my teeth into the back of her neck and feed. Never have I tasted such tender meat, I cannot stop the saliva from flowing as I clamp my jaws around her beating heart.”

The rest of the session is impossible to record but to sum up I would ask the reader of these notes to imagine listening to a wild beast tearing apart it’s prey.

Dr. Metz concluded the session when the patient, still under hypnosis, fell asleep after finishing his grizzly meal.

Of course it is to be surmised that the “beating heart” belonged to the deer but there is a part of me that is not so sure. The patient made it sound so sexual, describing the prey’s eyes and the connection he makes with her emotionally that I cannot help but feel he is telling us about an encounter with a woman.

Dr. Metz believes Francois G to be suffering from a type of splintered psyche similar in nature to those including what used to be labeled lycanthropy, what we now call schizophrenia as coined by the great Eugen Blueler. He feels that the patients problems are sexual in nature and it is only in this wolf-beast delusion that he is able to accomplish climax. His fear is that Francois G will get increasingly violent as this wolf-beast personality gains more strength. He has decided to keep the patient here until it can be determined just how dangerous the patient is likely to become.

Upon being informed that he will not be released until further study can be made Francois G becomes quite belligerent. He insists that we release him immediately. Dr. Metz allows Francois to listen to the recording of himself under hypnosis. It is common procedure to allow patients to hear their sessions unless the Dr. feels the patient needs preparation to be able to contend with what has been revealed. In this instance Dr. Metz believed that the patient needed to be confronted with just how far he had lapsed from reality. He believed that only when the patient heard what we had would he understand the necessity of removing him from society.

Francois G however was not horrified that he had torn apart and devoured a living creature. Francois was delighted. He found it hilariously amusing and would not stop laughing until there were tears streaming down his face. I tried very hard to keep a neutral expression but evidently failed because looking at me also made him burst with laughter.

Then he stopped. He stopped so completely that it was like he was not in the room at all but on a radio that had been turned off. His face held absolutely no expression as he told Dr. Metz that he would like to contact his solicitor. The patient was informed that we did not have to fulfill such a request if the consulting psychiatrist believed the patient to be a danger to himself and or others. However if Francois would like us to contact his family in order for them to accept the responsibility of deciding whether they would prefer a more private facility we would be more than happy to do so. The patient tilted his head and looked at the Dr. with such loathing that I became increasingly frightened. The Doctor calmly held his gaze. His face and body language remaining perfectly neutral until finally the patient agreed to allow us to contact his father.

An hour after contacting the father’s place of business we were visited by an impeccably tailored solicitor who informed Dr. Metz the precariousness of his position if Francois G was not allowed to leave with him.

The patient was released into the custody of the family solicitor and this file is now closed.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Frank G

It has been over twenty years since I last saw this patient and yet he has barely changed at all. He was a referral from a colleague who has decided to give up psychiatry. This is not as unusual as it may seem. Many psychiatrists have short-term careers as burn out is prevalent in the field especially those working with the criminally insane. I must admit at first to a certain amount of ambivalence in accepting any new patient since I still had some hospital shifts but my colleague was so desperate to see his patients settled before he closed his practice that I agreed to at least read the file.

It took me almost ten pages before I was feeling as if I had already encountered Frank G before. It took another five for me to realize that Frank G and Francois G, who had been one of my very first cases during my residency was the same person.

From the journal of Magdalene Currey April 3 19–

I am most disconcerted. So much so that I hardly know how to begin this entry or if indeed I should even try until I have spoken of the experience to Dr. Metz or someone more seasoned than I in this mostly unexplored field. But then a part of me is highly reticent… There are still so few women in psychiatry and those of us who have fought for our place are so highly scrutinized that it would not take much for any of us to be discredited, fairly or otherwise. So perhaps it is best if I keep this to myself for now, recording it here where I can study it with as much objectivity as I can muster. And I pray that in writing it the experience will lose some of its… intensity.

We have at the moment three patients that are suffering from “night terrors”. Dr. Metz has put them together in a separate ward during the evening hours so that their screams and flights will not disturb the other patients. It has for some time now been one of my duties to observe these three during the so called hour of the wolf when their symptoms are most acute. It has long been my custom to bring a pad large tablet of paper and draw these patients as they traverse whatever Hell they enter as soon as the lights are extinguished.

I stand with my face pressed against the window and my torch focused upon the sufferer. It’s dim circle forming a rather pathetic spotlight but it is enough. And that which I cannot see is supplemented by what I can hear and sometimes even smell.

Last night I followed my routine to the letter. I set up outside the room of Patient A. Patient A is a wife and mother who aside from this nocturnal affliction fit all the criteria set down for a diagnosis of high functioning. The other patients were much the same except for Patient B who was an invert and Patient C who had attempted suicide to rid herself of these nightly tortures.

I was just getting out my pencils when I heard furtive whispering coming from Patient C’s room. This was entirely new. I had heard all three of these patients have lengthy conversations with another or others unseen but never had the voices sounded different than the patients own. This time I could swear that one of the voices was male.

I was loath to shine my light in through the window in case it proved to be a disruption so I pressed my ear to the door and just listened.

At first I heard nothing but a somewhat lazy hissing sound, repetitive and somewhat seductive in it’s tone and rhythm. The longer I leaned against that door straining to catch even a single word the deeper I felt myself falling under it’s spell. The hall was becoming oppressively warm. It became necessary for me to undo three buttons on my blouse. Or perhaps I should remove it altogether after all I was alone. And I would stay alone unless I called… And there was no need for that since I was not in any danger.

I could feel the air against my naked flesh. It felt so good, so good.

The whispering had stopped. With a compulsion so strong it was impossible to resist, I pressed my body against the cool metal door and looked through the window directly into the a hunger so great it left me weak.

Too weak to stop myself from recklessly unlocking the door. His arms were strong and the moment I felt his breath on my skin the room spun.

I have not been able to get him out of my mind. I find it almost impossible to think of anything but my fervent wish that he be there again tonight.

Am I going mad? Have I become too sensitive to the souls I want so desperately to help? Or am I simply suffering from Residents Curse, exhaustion? It will soon be time for my rounds. I must try to drive him from my thoughts or else I will never sleep.

I am most disconcerted. So much so that I hardly know how to begin this entry or if indeed I should even try until I have spoken of the experience to Dr. Metz or someone more seasoned than I in this mostly unexplored field. But then a part of me is highly reticent… There are still so few women in psychiatry and those of us who have fought for our place are so highly scrutinized that it would not take much for any of us to be discredited, fairly or otherwise. So perhaps it is best if I keep this to myself for now, recording it here where I can study it with as much objectivity as I can muster. And I pray that in writing it the experience will lose some of its… intensity.

We have at the moment three patients that are suffering from “night terrors”. Dr. Metz has put them together in a separate ward during the evening hours so that their screams and flights will not disturb the other patients. It has for some time now been one of my duties to observe these three during the so called hour of the wolf when their symptoms are most acute. It has long been my custom to bring a pad large tablet of paper and draw these patients as they traverse whatever Hell they enter as soon as the lights are extinguished.

I stand with my face pressed against the window and my torch focused upon the sufferer. It’s dim circle forming a rather pathetic spotlight but it is enough. And that which I cannot see is supplemented by what I can hear and sometimes even smell.

Last night I followed my routine to the letter. I set up outside the room of Patient A. Patient A is a wife and mother who aside from this nocturnal affliction fit all the criteria set down for a diagnosis of high functioning. The other patients were much the same except for Patient B who was an invert and Patient C who had attempted suicide to rid herself of these nightly tortures.

I was just getting out my pencils when I heard furtive whispering coming from Patient C’s room. This was entirely new. I had heard all three of these patients have lengthy conversations with another or others unseen but never had the voices sounded different than the patients own. This time I could swear that one of the voices was male.

I was loath to shine my light in through the window in case it proved to be a disruption so I pressed my ear to the door and just listened.

At first I heard nothing but a somewhat lazy hissing sound, repetitive and somewhat seductive in it’s tone and rhythm. The longer I leaned against that door straining to catch even a single word the deeper I felt myself falling under it’s spell. The hall was becoming oppressively warm. It became necessary for me to undo three buttons on my blouse. Or perhaps I should remove it altogether after all I was alone. And I would stay alone unless I called… And there was no need for that since I was not in any danger.

I could feel the air against my naked flesh. It felt so good, so good.

The whispering had stopped. With a compulsion so strong it was impossible to resist, I pressed my body against the cool metal door and looked through the window directly into the a hunger so great it left me weak.

Too weak to stop myself from recklessly unlocking the door. His arms were strong and the moment I felt his breath on my skin the room spun.

I have not been able to get him out of my mind. I find it almost impossible to think of anything but my fervent wish that he be there again tonight.

Am I going mad? Have I become too sensitive to the souls I want so desperately to help? Or am I simply suffering from Residents Curse, exhaustion? It will soon be time for my rounds. I must try to get some sleep. I must try to drive him from my thoughts.

The rest of the session is impossible to record but to sum up I would ask the reader of these notes to imagine listening to a wild beast tearing apart it’s prey.

Dr. Metz concluded the session when the patient, still under hypnosis, fell asleep after finishing his grizzly meal.

Of course it is to be surmised that the “beating heart” belonged to the deer but there is a part of me that is not so sure. The patient made it sound so sexual, describing the prey’s eyes and the connection he makes with her emotionally that I cannot help but feel he is telling us about an encounter with a woman.

Dr. Metz believes Francois G to be suffering from a type of splintered psyche similar in nature to those including what used to be labeled lycanthropy, what we now call schizophrenia as coined by the great Eugen Blueler. He feels that the patients problems are sexual in nature and it is only in this wolf-beast delusion that he is able to accomplish climax. His fear is that Francois G will get increasingly violent as this wolf-beast personality gains more strength. He has decided to keep the patient here until it can be determined just how dangerous the patient is likely to become.

Upon being informed that he will not be released until further study can be made Francois G becomes quite belligerent. He insists that we release him immediately. Dr. Metz allows Francois to listen to the recording of himself under hypnosis. It is common procedure to allow patients to hear their sessions unless the Dr. feels the patient needs preparation to be able to contend with what has been revealed. In this instance Dr. Metz believed that the patient needed to be confronted with just how far he had lapsed from reality. He believed that only when the patient heard what we had would he understand the necessity of removing him from society.

Francois G however was not horrified that he had torn apart and devoured a living creature. Francois was delighted. He found it hilariously amusing and would not stop laughing until there were tears streaming down his face. I tried very hard to keep a neutral expression but evidently failed because looking at me also made him burst with laughter.

Then he stopped. He stopped so completely that it was like he was not in the room at all but on a radio that had been turned off. His face held absolutely no expression as he told Dr. Metz that he would like to contact his solicitor. The patient was informed that we did not have to fulfill such a request if the consulting psychiatrist believed the patient to be a danger to himself and or others. However if Francois would like us to contact his family in order for them to accept the responsibility of deciding whether they would prefer a more private facility we would be more than happy to do so. The patient tilted his head and looked at the Dr. with such loathing that I became increasingly frightened. The Doctor calmly held his gaze. His face and body language remaining perfectly neutral until finally the patient agreed to allow us to contact his father.

An hour after contacting the father’s place of business we were visited by an impeccably tailored solicitor who informed Dr. Metz the precariousness of his position if Francois G was not allowed to leave with him.

The patient was released into the custody of the family solicitor and this file is now closed.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Frank G

It has been over twenty years since I last saw this patient and yet he has barely changed at all. He was a referral from a colleague who has decided to give up psychiatry. This is not as unusual as it may seem. Many psychiatrists have short-term careers as burn out is prevalent in the field especially those working with the criminally insane. I must admit at first to a certain amount of ambivalence in accepting any new patient since I still had some hospital shifts but my colleague was so desperate to see his patients settled before he closed his practice that I agreed to at least read the file.

It took me almost ten pages before I was feeling as if I had already encountered Frank G before. It took another five for me to realize that Frank G and Francois G, who had been one of my very first cases during my residency was the same person.